BT 

309 
M28 


UC-NRLF 


$B    M^3    b5M 


THEomarr 

Y  FRANK  HARRIS- 


INCLUDING 


JESUS 

by  GEORGE  BERNARD  SHAW 


7^-nii 

a 


KARMfrllRARY 


STORIES  of 

Jesus  the  Christ 

V 

I     ANK  (HARRIS 


INCLUDING 

JESUS 

by  GEORGE  BERNARD  SHAW 


PEARSON'S    25c    LIBRARY 

N  EW    YORK 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

St.  Peter's  Discovery  

The  Miracle  of  the  Stigmata 5 

The  Holy  Man             17 

The  King  of  the  Jews 24 

,  a  letter  by  George  Bernard  Shaw      ...  28 

/    swer  by  Frank  Harris 31 


Copyright  1919 
By  Frank  Harris 


A  FOREWORD  TO  STORIES  OF  JESUS 

IN  my  whole  life  1  have  cared  greatly  for  only  two 
record   of    themselves   in   literature, 

Jesus,  and  for  the  last  thirty  years  I 
poken  of  Jesus  as  the  greatest  of  the  s< 
indeed  wl  "red  the  soul  and   e 

from  it  and  for  it  as  higher  than  the  reason;  who  in  fact 
nineteen  hundred   /oar-  t  and  acted  on  the 

which    Bergson    ir    our    time    is    so    praised    for    having 
glimpsed. 

The   other   day    1    picked  up   a   life   of   Napoleon   and 
found  that  in  his  e\  1a  he  had  used  the  very 

same  expression  about  Jesus:  "He  speaks  from  the  soul," 
he  said,  "as  never  man  spoke;  the  soul  is  sufficient  for  him, 
as  he  is  sufficient  for  the  soul.  Before  him  the  soul  was 
ing." 
••ar  or  so  ago  George  Bernard  Shaw  wrote  to  me :  "Js 
it  not  strange  that  you,  Moore  and  I  are  all  occupy- 
ing ourselves  with  Jesus?  How  do  you  account  for  this 
perennial  attraction  ?" 

I  have  tried  to  account  for  it  by  saying  that  Jesus  grew 

higher  than  other  men  and  from  the  renewed  interest  in 

-day,  not  in  Britain  alone,  but  in  France  where  even 

Jules  Lemaitre  tries   to   write   stories  about  him,   and   in 

too  and  Russia  it  seems  ljjcely  that  at  length  he  will 

ghtly   appreciated   and    given    his   true   place   in    the 

Pantheon    >f  Hum  an  it}'. 

if  mine  induce  men  to  think  of  Jesus 
reasonably  and  prove  to  be  'not  altogether  unworthy  of  the 
ct  I  shall  be  more  than  conn 

Frank  Harris. 

ST.  PETER'S  DISCOVERY 

ONE  day  Peter  was  greatly  disturbed.     He  wanted 
to    lea^e    the    Gate    of    Heaven    and    his    duties 
there  for  a  few  minutes,  so  he  called  his  brother 
Andrew  to  take  his  place. 

'r-ew  was  very  willing  to  play  guardian,  but  Peter 
raid  to  leave  him  in  charge. 
"Mind  now,"  he  cautioned  him,  "don't  let  anyone  in 
who  is  not  entitled  to  enter.  Don't  act  on  yonr  own 
judgment  Ask  the  Recording  Angel  and  go  by  his  as- 
surance only  and  remember  that  those  who  have  a 
right  in    will    always    get    in    and~  a   little    delay 

v  ni    not    harm    them,    for    son    of    man    or    daughter 
is  never  too  humble.    Take  care  now  and  make 
:e." 
Andrew    assured    Peter    again    and    again    that    he 
Arould  follow  his  directions  to  the  letter,  and  at  length 
Peter  ha-'  ay  towards  the  Throne,  his  business 


On  the  way,  he  met  Jesus,  and  after  some  hesitation 
could  not  help  unburdening  his  heart  to  him. 

"'.*  dreadful  thing  has  happened,  Master,"  he  began, 
"and  I  w«*r«t  you  to  believe  that  I  am  not  to  blame.  I 
have  been  gu*n  charge  of  the  gate  and  have  never  left 
it  for  a  moment  till  now,  and  I  pledge  you  my  word 
I  have  never  lei  a  single  person  inside  who  has  not  a 
perfectly  clean  sheet  No  one  can  be  more  grateful 
for  all  the  privileges  ot  Ileavct  +han  I  am.  You  be- 
lieve me,  don't  you?" 

Jesus  bowed  his  head  with  smiling  eyes. 

"I  am  sure,  Peter,  you  have  been  an  admirable 
guardian,"  he  sa?d,  "but  what  is  troubling  you  now?" 

"The  other  day,"  began  Peter,  looking  up  at  him 
with  sidelong  intent  eyes,  "the  other  day  I  met  a  little 
bli'nd  girl  whom  I  certainly  never  let  into  Heaven.  Oh, 
Master,  Master,  someone  is  admitting  them;  I  can  do 
nothing  and  I  shall  be  blamed  for  someone  else's 
fault." 

Jesus  put  his  hand  on  Peter's  shoulder.  "We  do 
not  blame  easily,  do  we,  Peter?  But  who  do  you 
thi'nk  is  letting  them  in?" 

"I  cannot  sleep  or  eat  for  thinking  of  it,"  replied 
Peter  evasively;  "please  help  me." 

"How  shall  I  help  you?"  asked  Jesus. 

"Come  to-night  at  eleven  o'clock  when  all  is  quiet 
and  I  will  show  you  everything." 

Jesus  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise,  but  answered 
simply:  "I  will  be  with  you,  Peter." 

That  night  Peter  took  Jesus  and  guided  him  by  the 
hand  all  along  the  rampart  to  the  first  great  bastion; 
then  he  whispered  to  him  to  wait  i'n  the  shadow  and  he 
would  see.  And  lo!  a  few  minutes  later  they  were 
aware  of  a  woman's  figure  close  to  the  battlements. 
They  both  saw  her  unwind  her  girdle  and  let  it  down 
over  the  wall;  in  a  few  moments  a  little  hunchbacked 
creature  clambered  up,  took  one  or  two  lame  steps  and 
the.i  cast  himself  down  on  his  face  before  the  woman 
and  began  kissing  the  hem  of  her  garment. 

At  once  Jesus  drew  Peter  away,  and  as  they  went 
towards  the  gate,  out  of  earshot,  he  said:  "My 
mother!" 

"Yes,  it  i's  Mary,"  Peter  began,  "and  what  can  I  do? 
Those  she  lets  in  are  all  deformed  like  that  wretched 
hunchback;  she  helps  only  the  maimed  and  the  halt  and 
the  blind;  and  some  afflicted  with  bleeding,  putrid 
sores;  dreadful  creatures,  they  would  shame  even  an 
earthly  city.     But  what  am  X  to  do,  Master? " 

"Peter,  Peter!"  said  Jesus,  and  the  luminous  gTeat 
eyes  dwelt  on  him,  "you  and  I  had  not  even  deformity 
to  plead  for  us — '" 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  THE 
STIGMATA 

IT  was  after  the  troubles  in  Jerusalem  that  a  man  called 
Joshua,  a  carpenter  anl  smith,  came  to  Caesarea.  Al- 
most before  the  neighbors  were  aware  of  it,  he  had 
i  down  in  a  little  hut  opposite  the  house  of  Simon  the 
image  maker,  and  was  working  quietly  at  his  trade.  He 
all  appearances:  a  middle-aged  Jew,  with 
features  sharpened  by  suffering,  or  possibly  by  illness,  and 
yet  in  many  ways  he  was  not  like  a  Jew:  he  never  went 
near  a  synagogue,  he  never  argued  about  religion  or  any- 
thing else,  and  he  took  what  people  gave  him  for  his 
work  without  bargaining. 

To  his  loud,  high  colored,  grasping  compatriots  he 
seemed  to  be  rather  a  poor  creature;  but  a  certain  liking 
softened  their  contempt  of  him,  for  his  shrinking  self- 
effacement  flattered  vanity  and  disposed  them  in  his 
favour.  And  yet,  now  and  then,  when  they  talked  with 
most  assurance  and  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  them,  they  grew 
a  little  uneasy:  his  look  was  more  one  of  pity  than  of 
admiration.  He  was  a  queer  fellow,  they  decided,  and 
not  easy  to  understand;  but,  as  he  was  peculiarly  retiring 
and  silent,  the  less  agreeable  impression  wore  away,  and 
they  finally  took  the  view  of  him  that  was  most  pleasing 
to  themselves,  and  regarded  him  as  unimportant. 

Joshua  seemed  to  accept  their  indifference  with  humble 
gratitude.  He  hardly  ever  left  his  room,  and  made  no 
friends,  except  Simon,  who  modelled  in  clay  and  wax 
the  little  figures  of  the  Phoenician  gods.  Simon  had  the 
name  of  a  rich  man  and  he  was  very  clever;  he  used 
to  paint  some  of  his  wax  gods  with  rosy  cheeks,  black 
hair  and  gilded  lips  till  they  looked  alive,  and  their  robes 
were  green  and  purple  and  saffron  with  dark  shadows  in 
the  f)lds  so  that  they  seemed  to  move.  Simon  took  a 
great  liking  to  Joshua  from  the  beginning,  and  did  his 
best  to  break  down  his  reserve  and  make  an  intimate  of 
him.  But  even  Simon  had  to  content  Jiimself  with 
moderate  success.  Joshua  was  always  sympathetic,  and 
would  listen  to  him  for  hours  at  a  time;  but  he  spoke 
little,  and  never  about  himself.  Simon,  however, 
used  to  maintain  that  Joshua's  silence  was  more  stimu- 
lating than  the  speech  of  other  men. 

Simon's  wife,  Tabitha,  did  not  take  to  Joshua  at  first; 
she  never  felt  at  ease  with  him,  she  said,  and  his  great 
eyes  made  her  flesh  creep.  But,  as  she  got  to  know  him, 
she  could  not  help  seeing  his  industry  and  his  love  of 
home  and  a  quiet  life,  and,  in  a  month  or  so,  she  sent  to 


Joppa  for  her  sister's  daughter,  Judith,  who  was  twenty- 
five  years  old,  and  still  unmarried.  It  was  poverty. 
Tabitha  knew,  and  not  choice  that  had  kept  Judith  single. 
The  very  first  night  after  the  girl  reached  Csesarea  the  two 
had  a  long  talk,  and  Judith  drank  in  all  her  aunt  had  to 
tell  of  Joshua  and  his  peculiarities,  and  accepted  the  cunning 
advice  of  the  older  woman  with  complete  submission. 

"The  girl  is  no  fool,"  Tabitha  said  to  herself,  and  be- 
gan to  take  a  liking  to  her  pupil;  while  Judith  felt  that 
Tabitha  was  really  clever  in  managing  men,  or  how  could 
she  have  contrived  to  keep  her  husband's  affection,  in 
spite  of  her  age  and'  barrenness,  a  thing  which  seemed  to 
the  girl  wonderful?  Tabitha's  advice  to  Judith  was  not 
Id  off  and  thus  excite  Joshua's  desire;  but  to  show 
him  that  she  liked  him. 

"He  has  been  disappointed  in  life,"  Tabitha  said,  "and 
wants  comforting.  Anyone  can  see  he's  soft  and  affec- 
tionate by  nature,  like  a  girl:  he  will  be  grateful  to  you 
for  loving  him.  Trust  me,  I  know  the  kind  of  man : 
there  was  Jonas  when  I  was  young;  I  might  have  had 
him  ten  times  over,  if  I  had  wanted  to;  and  James  as 
well,  the  rich  tanner  of  Joppa,  who  married  the  Levite's 
daughter.  You  take  my  advice,  Judith,  make  up  to  him, 
and  you'll  get  him.  Joshua  has  a  lot  of  the  woman  in 
him  or  I'm  a  fool." 

Tabitha  turned  out  to  be  right,  though  Judith  did  not 
succeed  as  quickly  as  they  had  expected,  for  it  was  hard 
to  persuade  Joshua  that  he  was  loved  by  anyone. 

"I  am  old,"  he  said,  "and  broken,  and  my  house  is 
empty  of  hope." 

But  the  women  were  patient,  and,  one  afternoon,  Simon 
put  in  a  warm  word  for  Judith,  and  a  little  later  the 
wedding  took  place. 

The  marriage  was  not  unhappy;  indeed,  the  union  of 
the  two  seemed  to  grow  intimate  as  time  went  on,  and 
nothing  occurred  to  trouble  the  peace  of  the  household, 
except  the  fact  that  the  marriage  of  Judith,  too,  was 
barren,  like  the  marriage  of  Tabitha.  Now  and  again 
Judith  took  this  to  heart  and  blamed  her  husband,  but 
her  anger  never  lasted  very  long.  Joshua  had  a  way  of 
doing  kind  little  things,  even  while  he  was  being  scolded, 
which  was  hard  to  resist.  Still  Judith  always  felt  she 
would  have  thought  more  of  him  if  he  had  turned  on 
her  and  mastered  her,  as  she  had  seen  her  father  master 
her  mother. 

In  the  third  year  of  the  marriage,  one  Philip,  a  deacon, 
came  from  Jerusalem,  and  created  a  good  deal  of  excite- 
ment and  curiosity  in  the  Jewish  community.  He  talked 
of  miracles  and  a  Messiah;  but  no  one  believed  much 
in  him.     And,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  town,  the  effect 


r  disappears  in  air. 

preacher,  called   Peter, 

uning  the  new  doctrine 

to  be  ur  Peter  taught  that  one  Jesus  had 

born  in  Bethlehem  from  the  seed  of  David,  and  that 

I  by  the  prophets.     But  when 

known    tl  supposed   Messiah  had   been 

ed    in    Jerusalem    as    a    sedition-monger,    the    more 

it  among  the  jews  grew  indignant,  and  Peter  often 

found  it  difficult  to  get  a  hearing.    Still,  he  was  a  man  of 

such  ion    that    his    teaching    lent    the 

subject  an   interest  which,  strangely  enough,  did  not  die 

out   or   even   greatly   diminish   after   he  had  gone   away. 

From  time  to  time,  too,  curiosity  was  excited  anew  by  all 

of  rumours;  so  when  it  was  told  about  that  another 

apostle,   Paul,  had  landed  at  Caesarea  and  was  going  to 

Jews  ran  together  to  hear  bim. 

Judith  had  heard  the  news  at  Tabitha's.     As  soon  as 

she  had  made  arrangements  to  go  to  the  place  of  meeting, 

she  hurried  across  to  her  own  house  to  dress  and  to.  tell 

Joshua.    Joshua  listened  to  her  patiently  as  usual,  but  with 

a  troubled  brow,  and  when  his  wife  told  him  to  get  ready 

to  accompany   them,   to   her  amazement  he   said  that  he 

could  not  go,  and,   when   she   pressed   him   and   insisted, 

he  shook  his  head.     In  the  years  they  had  lived  together, 

he  had  hardly  refused  her  anything,  and  he  had  never 

gone  against  her  wishes  at  any  time  without  explaining 

and  pleading  as  if  he  were  in  fault;  so  Judith  was  doubly 

determined  to  get  her  own  way  now.     After  asking  once 

more  tor  his  reasons,  she  declared  that  he  must  go  with 

her: 

"It's  seldom  I  ask  you  anything,  and  it  is  very  dull  here. 

must  come." 

pained  him  to  refuse  her,  and,  seeing  this,  she 
!  about  the  wretched  loneliness  of  her  life,  and,  at 
last,  wept  iloud  over  her  poverty  and  childlessness. 
Joshua  comforted  her  and  wiped  her  eyes,  but  did  not 
and,  in  this  plight,  Simon  and  Tabitha  found  them, 
much  to  Judith's  annoyance.  Simon  took  in  the  position 
at  once,  and,  in  his  good-humoured  way,  soon  settled 
the  difficulty. 

me  on,  Judith,"  he  said;  "you  know  you  would  not 

like  him    so  much   if   he   were  not   a  stay-at-home,   and 

it  is  not  flattering  to  cry  when  you  have  me  and  Tabitha 

for    company";    and    without    further    ado    he    took   the 

n  away  with  him. 

When   they   returned  that  evening,  Judith   seemed  like 

a  new  creature ;  her  cheeks  were  red  and  her  eyes  glowed, 

\ cited,  as  one  is  excited  with  the  new 


For  hours  she  talked  to  Joshua  about  Paul  and  all  he  had 
said: 

"He  is  the  most  wonderful  man  in  the  •  le  de- 

clared ;  *'not  big  nor  handsome ;  small,  indeed,  and  ordi- 
nary.looking,  but,  as  soon  as  he  begins  to  speak,  he  seems 
to  grow  before  your  eyes.  I  never  heard  anyone  talk 
as  he  talks :  you  cannot  help  believing  him ;  he  is  like 
one  inspired." 

So  she  went  on,  while  Joshua,  from  time  to  time,  raised 
his  eyes  to  her  in  surprise.  In  spite  of  her  excitement 
she  answered  his  mute  questioning: 

"If  you  once  heard  him,  you  would  have  to  believe  him. 
He  began  by  saying  that  he  came  to  preach  Christ  and 
Him  crucified.  You  know  how  everyone  is  ashamed  to 
speak  of  the  crucifixion.  Paul  began  with  it;  it  was  the 
crowning  proof,  he  said  (what  beautiful  words!)  that 
Jesus  was  indeed  the  Messiah.  For  Jesus  was  crucified, 
and  lay  three  days  in  the  grave,  and  then  came  to  life 
again  and  was  seen  of  many.  This  is  the  chief  doctrine  of 
the  new  creed;  we  shall  all  have  to  die  with  Jesus  to 
the  things  of  the  flesh,  Paul  says,  in  order  to  rise  again 
with  Him  to  everlasting  life." 

She  spoke  slowly,  but  with  much  feeling,  and  then, 
clasping  her  hands,  she  cried : 

"Oh,  it  is  true;  I  feel  it  is  all  true!" 

"But  did  Jesus  die?"  Joshua  asked.  "I  mean,"  he  went 
on  hesitatingly,  "did  Paul  try  to  prove  that?" 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Judith.  "Everyone  knows  that  a 
man  is  not  crucified  by  the  Romans  and  allowed  to  live." 

"But  Jesus  was  not  a  criminal  to  the  Romans,"  Joshua 
remarked  quietly ;  "perhaps  they  took  less  care  in  his  case." 

"Oh,  that's  foolish,"  Judith  retorted.  "Of  course,  He 
was  dead;  they  don't  bury  men  who  are  alive." 

"But  sometimes,"  Joshua  went  on,  "men  are  thought  to 
be  dead  who  have  only  fainted.  Jesus  is  said  to  have  died 
on  the  Cross  in  a  few  hours;  and  that,  you  know, 
i  very  strange;  the  crucified  generally  live  for  two  or 
three  days." 

"I've  no  patience  with  you!"  cried  Judith.  "All  your 
doubts  come  from  your  dislike  of  religion.  If  you  had  more 
piety,  you  would  not  go  on  like  that;  and,  if  you  once 
heard  Paul  preach,  you  would  know,  you  would  feel  in 
your  heart,  that  he  was  filled  with  the  very  Spirit  of  God. 
He  talks  of  Jesus  beautifully." 

"Did  he  know  Jesus?"  asked  Joshua.  "He  was  not 
one  of  the  disciples,  was  he?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "He  made  himself  famous  by  per- 
secuting the  followers  of  Jesus.  For  a  long  time,  he 
went  everywhere,  informing  against  them  and  throwing 
them  into  prison.    He  told  us  all  about  it :  it  is  a  wonder- 

8 


ful  story.  He  was  going  up  to  Damascus  once  to  per- 
secute the  Christians— that's  what  they  are  ailed  now— 
when  suddenly,  in  the  road,  a  great  light  sho:. !  upon  him, 
and  he  fell  to  the  ground,  while  a  voice  from  htiven  cried : 

"  'Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me  ?' 

"The  voice  was  the  voice  of  Jesus.  Paul  was  Dlind  for 
three  days  in  Damascus,  and  only  got  his  sight  again 
through  the  prayers  of  one  of  the  Christians.  Isn't  it 'all — 
beautiful?" 

"It  may  have  been  the  sun,"  said  Joshua  slowly,  "the 
noonday  sun;  his  blindness  afterwards  seems  to  show 
that  it  was  sunstroke." 

"But  the  voice,"  said  Judith,  "the  voice  which  came 
from  heaven,  and  which  the  others  didn't  hear,  that  wasn't 

4  sunstroke,  I  suppose?" 
"The  others  didn't  hear  the  voice,"  repeated  Joshua,  as 
if   he   were  speaking  to   himself;   "perhaps   then    it   was 
the  voice  of  his  own  soul,  wounded  by  those  persecutions." 

"Oh,  you're  hateful,"  cried  Judith,  "with  your  stupid 
explanations.  I  can't  see  what  pleasure  you  find  in  them, 
myself.  Besides,  they  hurt  me,  for  I  Relieve  in  Paul. 
Yes,  I  do,"  she  added  passionately;  "he  is  as  God  to  me"; 
and.  after  a  pause,  she  said : 

"I'm  going  with  Tabitha  to-morrow  to  see  Paul:  I  want 
to  be  baptised  and  to  become  a  Christian,  as  Paul  is." 

Joshua  shook  his  head  and  cast  down  his  eyes  in  doubt 
and  sorrow,  but  Judith  turned  from  him:  she  had  said 
what  she  wanted  to  say. 

The  next  morning,  Simon  and  Tabitha  came  over  early, 

and  they  all  talked  of  the  effect  of  Paul's  preaching:    half 

the  Jews  in  Caesarea  had  been  converted  already,  Judith 

said,   and   hundreds    were  going   to   be   baptised  at  once. 

ha  confirmed  this,  and  hoped  that  Simon,  too,  would 

follow  the  good  example.     Simon,  however,  said  that,  for 

-irt,  he  meant  to  wait:    he  would  hear  more,  and  do 

ng  rashly;  but  he  did  not  wonder  that  the  women 

were  persuaded,  for  Paul  was  very  eloquent. 

"He's  ugly,"  he  went  on.  ("Oh  no  I"  cried  Judith,  "he's 
glorious!")  "I  think  him  very  ugly,"  Simon  persisted; 
"but  his  face  gets  hold  of  you :  he's  nearly  bald,  with  a 
long  beaked  nose  and  thick  black  beard;  but  his  eyes  are 
wonderful ;  they  blaze  and  grow  soft  and  weep  and  his 
voice  changes  with  his  eyes  till  your  very  soul  is  taken 
out  of  you.    His  teaching,  too,  is  astonishing. 

"You  see,"  he  continued,  "Paul's  idea  that  the  kingdom 
promised  to  us  Jews  is  to  be  a  spiritual  kingdom,  a  king- 
dom of  righteousness,  and  not  a  mateilal  kingdom,  seems 
to  me  good.  It  is  practicable  at  least,  and  that's  some- 
thing. And  this  Jesus  of  whom  Paul  preaches  must  have 
nn   extraordinary  being,   greater  than   the  prophets, 


greater  even  than  Elias.  He  used  to  say,  'My  kingdom  is 
not  of  this  world,'  and  he  went  about  with  the  poor  and  the 
prostitutes  and  the  afflicted.  Did  you  ever  happen  to  see 
him  in  Jerusalem?" 

Joshua  kept  his  eyes  or.  the  ground,  and  after  a  time 
replied  in  a  low  voice : 

"He  wasn't  much  in  Jerusalem." 

Day  by  day,  the  agitation  spread  and  spread,  like  a 
in  the  rains,  till  it  looked  as  if  there  were  no  limit  to 
Paul's  power  of  persuading  the  Jews.  Conversion  followed 
conversion ;  the  meetings  grew  larger  and  larger,  the  in- 
terest in  what  he  said  more  and  more  intense,  till,  af 
length,  nearly  all  the  Jews  in  Caesarea  had  become  follow- 
ers of  the  Nazarene.  The  excitement  caught  in  the 
quarters  of  the  city.  The  Phoenician  fisherman  and  some 
landsfolk  began  to  come  to  the  meetings,  and,  every  now 
and  then,  some  Roman  soldiers,  and  here  and  there  a 
centurion ;  but  these  more  out  of  curiosity  than  emotion. 

As  Tabitha  and  Judith  had  been  among  the  earliest 
converts,  it  was  only  natural  that  their  zeal  should  grow 
when  they  found  their  example  followed  by  the  priests 
and  Levites  and  other  leaders  of  the  people.  It  was 
natural,  too,  that  Judith  should  continue  to  press  Joshua 
to  give  the  new  doctrine  at  least  a  fair  hearing,  as  Simon 
had  done,  to  his  soul's  salvation,  but  Joshua  remained 
obstinate.  One  evening,  however,  Judith's  patience  was 
rewarded.  They  were  all  talking  at  Simon's  house,  and, 
at  length,  Judith  quoted  some  words  of  Paul  on  Charity : 

"Charity  sufrereth  long,  and  is  kind;  is  not  easily  pro- 
voked ;  thinketh  no  evil  .  .  .  beareth  all  things,  be- 
lieveth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things." 

As  she  paused,  Joshua  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  and 
then  said,  simply : 

"I  will  go  with  you  to-morrow  to  hear  Paul." 

And  then  they  were  all  glad,  and  gave  thanks  unto  God. 

On  the  morrow,  when  they  drew  near  the  meeting- 
place,  they  found  themselves  in  a  great  crowd  of  Jews. 
for  the  doors  of  the  building  had  been  closed  by  reason 
of  the  multitude.  Everyone  was  talking  about  the  new 
doctrine. 

"I  like  Paul,"  .said  one,  "because  he  is  a  Hebrew  of  the 
Hebrews,  and  aforetime  a  Pharisee." 

"Ah !"  cried  another.  "  Do  you  remember  that  splendid 
thing  he  said  yesterday,  'If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him; 
if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink,  for  so  thou  shalt  heap  c< 
fire  on  his  head.'    Ha!  ha!  ha!     'Coals  of  fire'!     That  was 
great,  eh?" 

"And  true,  too !"  exclaimed  a  friend. 

"And  new  !"  cried  another. 


10 


And  the  men   embraced  each   other,   while   their 
shone     with     conqu'  v.ng     enthusiasm.       Joshua     plucked 
Simon  by  the  garnv 

"Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,"  said  Simon  impatiently,  for  the  prevailing  ex- 
citement was  exciting  him,  and  he  didn't  like  the  inter- 
ruption; "of  course,  I  hear." 

Then  a  red  Jew,  with  head  of  flame  and  beard  of  gold, 
started  forward,  and  uplifting  his  hand,  cried. 

"What  I  liked  best  in  his  last  speech  was  what  he  said 
against  backsliders  and  those  who  excite  doubt  by  vain 
disputations;  and,  above  all,  that  great  word  of  the  Mes- 
siah: 'He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me,  and  he  that 
gathereth  not  with  me,  scattereth  abroad.'"  x 

The  man  thundered  out  the  words  as  if  he  were  defy- 
ing the  world. 

Again  Joshua  plucked  Simon  by  the  garment,  and, 
when  Simon  turned  to  him,  he  saw  that  the  carpenter's 
face  was  pale,  and  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  Joshua?"  he  asked. 

Joshua  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not  for  a  moment,  and, 
when  at  length  he  had  drawn  Simon  a  little  apart,  all 
that  he  was  able  to  say  was : 

"Do  you  hear  what  they  say?" 

"Of  course,  I  hear,"  said  Simon  crossly,  for  he  had 
enjoyed  the  vivid,  impassioned  talk;  "but  what  of  that? 
What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

And  Joshua  asked: 

"Are  these  men  true  witnesses?  Does  Paul  indeed 
teach  these  things?" 

Simon  answered  shortly : 

"Yes:  I  suppose  so." 

Joshua  looked  at  him  regretfully,  and  said : 

"I  must  go,  Simon ;  I  could  not  listen  to  Paul.  He 
does  not  speak  as  Jesus  spoke  ;  I  must  go." 

But  Simon  was  impatient. 

"Nonsense."  I  "what  do  you  know  of  Jesus  that 

you  should  contradict  His  apostle?" 
!  Joshua  made  answer: 

"I  know  what  Jesus  taught;  and  this  is  not  his  tea 
I  rememrn  'He  that  is  not  ag 

ached   love,    Si; 
and  this  man 1  must  go!" 

Simon  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  threw  out  by  way 
of  warning: 

"Judith  will  be  very  angry!" 

But.   at   that   moment. 
josht. 

of  the  human 
filled  the  build 


From  that  day  on,  Judith  took  no  pains  to  hide  her 
coolness  toward  her  husband.  And  even  to  Simon,  Joshua 
seemed  unreasonable;  he  would  not  listen  now  to  any  talk 
about  Paul;  the  mere  mention  of  Paul's  name  seemed  to 
pain  and  distress  him;  and,  as  Judith  went  oftener  and 
oftener  to  Paul's  preaching,  the  rift  between  her  and  her 
husband  widened  from  day  to  day. 

At  last  the  disagreement  came  to  speech.  One  after- 
noon, after  sitting  still  for  a  long  time  watching  her 
husband  at  work  fashioning  a  cattle-yoke,  Judith  said : 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you ;  I  must  speak  to  you." 

Joshua  leant  on  the  tool  he  was  using  and  paused  to 
hear  what  she  had  to  say,  and  she  began : 

"It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  say  it,  but  I  must.  You  are 
the  only  lew  in  Csesarea  who  has  hardened  his  heart 
and  refused  even  to  listen  to  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  and 
that  has  hurt  m«e.  Now  Paul  is  going  away,  and — and — 
he  asked  us  before  he  left  to  write  down  any  question  we 
wished  to  have  answered;  so  that  his  absence  might  not 
be  so  much  felt." 

She  paused  here,  and  seemed  to  grow  a  little  confused, 
but,  gathering  courage,  went  on: 

"I — I  asked  him  something.  I  asked  him,"  and  she 
lifted  her  eyes  to  her  husband  boldly,  "I  asked  him 
whether  it  was  right  to  live  with  an  unbeliever,  one  who 
would  not  even  listen  to  the  truth  or  hear  it;  and  he 
answered  me " 

She  paused,  looking  down,  and  Joshua  gazed  at  her 
with  wistful  eyes,  but  said  nothing,  and  at  length  she  be- 
gan again: 

"He  answered  me  yesterday,  and  I  remember  every 
word  he  said:  'Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together  with 
unbelievers,  for  what  fellowship  hath  righteousness  with 
unrighteousness,  and  what  communion  hath  light  with 
darkness ' " 

She  recited  the  words  with  a  certain  exaltation,  and,  as 
her  voice  rose  defiantly  over  the  last  syllables,  she  looked 
up  at  her  husband  as  if  she  expected  to  meet  his  anger; 
but  she  was  mistaken.  His  eyes  were  full  of  unshed  tears, 
and,  resenting  his  want  of  spirit,  she  rang  out: 

"' and  what  concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial?'" 

After  a  long  pause,  Joshua  spoke : 

"Can  this  indeed  be  Paul,"  he  asked,  with  a  sort  of 
sorrowful  wonder,  "who  calls  himself  the  follower  of 
Jesus;  yet  denies  his  teaching? 

"'Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbelievers,' 
Paul  says;  but  Jesus  would  have  said,  'Be  ye  unequally 
yoked  together  with  unbelievers,'  for  faith  is  stronger  than 
doubt,  as  light  is  stronger  than  darkness." 

"Oh,   no,"   cried   Judith,   starting   up;    "it   is   not   true. 

12 


Paul  says,  'Be  ye  separate  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing, 
and  I  will  receive  you.'  " 

As  she  spoke,  Joshua  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her 
beseechingly. 

"Ah,  Judith,  that  is  not  the  teaching  of  love;  and 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  teach  love,  and  nothing  else. 
Paul  has  made  doctrines  of  belief  and  rules  of  conduct; 
but  Jesus  wanted  nothing  but  love :  love  that  is  more  than 
righteousness.  ...  He  may  have  been  mistaken,"  he 
went  on  in  a  voice  broken  by  extreme  emotion;  "He 
trusted  God,  cried  to  Him  in  his  extremity,  hoping  for 
instant  help — in  vain.  ...  He  was  forsaken,  cruelly 
forsaken,  and  all  his  life's  work  undone.  But  he  was 
not  wrong,  surely,  in  preaching  love  to  men — love  tl 
the  life  of  the  soul." 

He  spoke  with  an  impassioned  tenderness;  but  Judith 
broke  in,  her  eyes  narrowing  with  question  and  suspicion: 

"What  do  you  know  of  Jesus  and  what  He  said?  You 
never  spoke  to  me  about  Him  before.  Did  you  know  Him 
in  Jerusalem  ?" 

Johsua  hesitated,  and  his  eyes  fell;  then  he  said: 

"I  know  His  teaching,"  and  he  went  on  hurriedly :  "But 
all  this  is  only  words,  isn't  it,  Judith?  Surely,"  and  his 
voice  trembled,  "you  would  not.  leave  me  after  all  these 
years  of  happiness  for  what  a  stranger  says?" 

"What  Paul  says  is  always  right,"  she  retorted  coolly. 

Joshua  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her  in  hopeless  appeal : 
"Ah,  Judith,  why  give  pain;  why  add  to  that  mist  of 
human  tears  that  already  veils  the  beauty  of  the  world?" 

Judith  replied  solemnly:  "Paul  says  thai*  we  only 
come  to  peace  by  leaving  the  lower  for  the  higher  way; 
no  earthly  ties  should  fetter  us  who  are  called  to  the 
service  of  the  divine  Master:  I  shall  find  a  nobler  sat- 
isfaction in  the  new  life." 

As  she  spoke,  Joshua's  face  grew  drawn  and.  pale,  and 
in  alarm  she  cried: 

"What  is  it?    Are  you  ill?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  am  not  ill." 

But  he  sat  down  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 
After  a  while  she  touched  him,  and  he  looked  up  with  un- 
utterable sadness  in  his  eyes. 

"How  can  I  blame  you — how?"  and  he  sighed  deeply. 
"I,  too,  left  my  mother  and  my  brethren,  in  obedience  to 
what  I  thought  was  the  higher  bidding;  but,  oh, 
had  my  life  to  live  over  again,  I  don't  think  T  should  act 
in  the  same  way.  I  must  have  hurt  my  mother,  and  if 
seems  to  me  now  that  the  higher  love  ought  to  include 
the  lower  and  not  exclude  it.    I  should  be  more " 

Again  she  interrupted  him: 

"Paul   says  hesitation  is  itself  a   fault;  but  I  h. 

13 


idea  that  you  felt  so  much  or  cared  for  me  so  much." 

Her  tone  was  gentUr,  and  he  replied,  with  a  brave 
attempt  at  smiling: 

"I  have  had  no  life,  Judith,  so  peaceful  and  happy  as 
my  life  here  with  you." 

Judith  answered: 

"You  never  say  anything,  so  it  is  hard  to  believe  you 
feel  much." 

This  brought  the  talk  to  sympathy  and  intimacy,  and, 
for  a  while,  there  was  peace  between  them. 

A  little  later,  Paul  held  his  last  meeting.  Before  taking 
ship  he  preached  once  in  the  open  air,  on  the  foreshore 
where  water  and  land  meet;  and,  of  course,  Judith  was  by 
his  side.  He  spoke  with  heavy  sadness  of  the  parting,  and 
with  pride  of  those,  his  brothers  and  sisters,  who  would, 
he  knew,  remain  faithful  until  the  present  coming  of  Christ. 
His  words  moved  the  people  to  tears  and  new  resolutions  ; 
for  they  all  sorrowed  bitterly,  fearing  to  lose  him  for- 
ever.    .    .     . 

The  next  day,  when  Joshua  got  up  in  the  morning, 
Judith  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  He  called  her,  but 
she  did  not  answer;  she  was  not  in  the  house;  he  went 
across  to  Tabitha,  and  Tabitha  could  only  tell  him  that 
Judith  had  resolved  not  to  live  with  him  any  more  and 
that  she  had  gone  back  for  a  time  to  Joppa. 

Joshua  returned  to  his  empty  house  and  as  soon  as  he 
had  closed  the  door  his  loneliness  and  misery  came 
him  in  a  flood  and  he   stretched   forth  his  hands  crying 
in  bitterness  of  soul : 

"But  why  this  cup,  oh,  Lord?  why?" 

Months  passed.  Judith  returned  to  Caesarea  and  dwelt 
again  with  Tabitha;  but,  in  spite  of  the  reproaches  of 
Simon,  she  refused  to  cross  the  road  to  see  Joshua,  and, 
as  Joshua  scarcely  ever  left  his  house,  some  time  elapsed 
before  they  met.  One  morning,  however,  as  Joshua  was 
returning  home  from  the  market,  Judith  hurried  out  of 
Simon's  house  on  her  way  to  a  meeting,  and  the  two 
came  face  to  face.  They  both  stopped  for  a  moment,  and 
■then  Joshua,  in  divine  pity  and  tenderness,  forgiving  every- 
thing, went  toward  his  wife  with  outstretched  hands;  but 
Judith  put  her  hands  before  her  face,  and  turned  her  head 
aside,  as  if  she  didn't  want  to  see  him;  and,  when  he  still 
came  towards  her,  she  hastened  back  into  the  house  with- 
out a  word.  After  waiting  a  while  in 'the  road,  Joshua 
went  slowly  into  his  house  with  downcast  eyes.  Neither 
of  them,  the"  knew  that  they  had  seen  each  other  in  life 
for  the  last  time. 


14 


cr  many  days,  Paul  came  again  to  Qesaraa,  on  his 
way  to  Jerusalem;  and,  once  again,  ail  Caesarea  thronged 
to  hear  the  man  whom  everyone  now  recognised  as  the 
st  of  the  apostles.  As  before,  both  Tabitha  and 
Judith  were  diligent  at  the  meetings,  and  Judith  in  es- 
pecial was  treated  by  Paul  with  great  tenderness,  as  one 
:iad  suffered  much  for  the  faith. 

ning,  Simon  came  in  and  told  the  women  to  go 
hat  had  happened  to  Joshua;  for  he  had  not 
opened  his  door  for  two  days,  and  was  probably  ill.  The 
women  went  across  and  found  Joshua.  He  had  fallen 
by  his  bench,  and  was  already  cold;  they  could  not  lift 
him,  and  they  came  back  to  Simon,  crying.  Simon  was 
angry  with  them,  and  said  to  Judith: 

"He  was  too  good  for  you,  and  so  you  left  hm.  Paul 
says:  'Our  faithful  Judith,'  and  that's  enough  for  you. 
Pish!" 

Simon  was  too  rich,  Judith  felt,  ever  to  be  a  good 
Christian ;  but  this  time  she  bore  his  rebuke,  for  she 
needed  his  assistance.  Simon  went  over  with  them,  and 
helped  to  lift  Joshua  and  lay  him  out  straight  on  his  bed, 
and  there  he  left  him  to  the  care  of  the  women. 

Tabitha  and  Judith  got  clean  linen  and  began  to  wash 

the  body.    Suddenly,  Tabitha  cried  out: 

"Judith,  lookl     What  arcthese  marks  on  his  hands?" 

And  she  turned  the  palm  of  the  right  hand  to  Judith, 

the  whole  palm  was  drawn  together  to  a  puckered 

white  cicatrix  in  the  middle. 

"Oh,  that  is  nothing,"  Judith  replied;  "an  accident  that 

to  him  in  Jerusalem." 
Tabitha  repeated: 

n  accident?    How  strange  I" 
A  moment  later,  she  cried  again : 

th !    The  same  marks  are  in  his  feet." 
Judith  started. 

"Feet?"  And  then:  "I  never  knew  that.  They  used 
not  to  be  there  I  am  sure,  or — oh  1"  she  cried,  as  a  new 
thought  struck  her,  "perhaps  they  were  covered  by  the 
sandal-strap;  he  never  could  walk  far,  you'know." 

he  spoke,  staring  and  puzzled,  Tabitha  snatched  the 
sheet  from  the  body,  and,  pointing,  said : : 

k!  in  his  side  as  well,"  and  then,  in  an  awed  whisper: 
"the  Stigmata— the  Holy  Stigmata  1" 

Judith's  lips  framed  the  words,  too,  but  she  was  unable 
to  speak.    When  she  came  to  herself,  she  said: 

"Oh,  Tabitha,  let  us  go  and  tell  Paul,"  and  they  hurried 
to  the  house  where  Paul  dwelt,  and,  in  a  few  words,  told 
him  the  whole  matter;  and  at  once  Paul  set  off,  with  all 
those  who  were  with  him,  to  the  house  of  Joshua. 

e  to  the  house  and  had  entered  in,  and 

15 


had  seen  the  marks  on  Joshua's  hands  and  in  his  feet  and 
in  his  side,  Paul  turned  swiftly  to  those  standing  by,  and, 
holding  up  his  hands,  cried: 

"Lo,  a  great  work  has  been  wrought  to-day  in  Israeli" 

And  all  who  were  with  him  shouted : 

"A  miracle  1    A  miracle  1" 

And  Paul  began  to  speak,  and,  while  he  spoke,  the  Jews 
in  Caesarea  gathered  about  the  house,  and  convinced  them- 
selves of  the  miracle  that  had  been  wrought  on  their 
behalf.  And  Paul  went  on  preaching  as  one  filled  with 
the  Spirit  and  with  triumph  in  his  voice,  and  soon  the 
news  spread  to  the  port,  and  the  Phoenician  fishermen 
came  and  saw  the  wonder,  and  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  all 
listened  now  to  Paul's  words  and  were  converted  by  him. 
For  everyone  knew  that  this  Joshua,  though  a  Jew,  had 
not  followed  the  ne*y  teaching,  and  that  he  had  been  as 
Paul  said  he  was,  the  last  unbeliever  in  Caesarea,  and 
because  of  his  unbelief,  as  Paul  declared,  and  for  a  sign 
to  the  whole  world,  the  Stigmata  of  Jesus  the  Crucified 
had  been  put  upon  him,  and,  indeed,  the  Stigmata  were 
there,  plain  to  be  seen  by  everyone,  in  his  hands  and  feet 
and  side.  And  all  the  inhabitants  of  Caesarea,  and  of  the 
parts  round  about,  were  converted  and  turned  to  the  Lord 
through  the  preaching  of  Paul,  and  through  the  miracle 
of  the  Stigmata  that  had  been  wrought  on  the  body  of  the 
last  unbeliever  in  Caesarea. 


16 


THE  HOLY  MAN 

(After  Tolstoi) 

PAUL,  the  eldest  son  of  Count  Stroganoff,  was  only 
thirty-two  when  he  was  made  a  Bishop:  he  was  the 
youngest  dignitary  in  the  Greek  Church,  yet  his 
diocese  was  among  the  largest:  it  extended  for  hundreds 
of  miles  along  the  shore  of  the  Caspian.  Even  as  a  youth 
Paul  had  astonished  people  by  his  sincerity  and  gentleness, 
and  the  honours  paid  to  him  seemed  to  increase  his  lov- 
able qualit 

Shortly  after  his  induction  he  set  out  to  visit  his  whole 
diocese  in  order  to  learn  the  needs  of  the  people.  On  this 
pastoral  tour  he  took  with  him  two  older  priests  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  profit  by  their  experience.  After  many 
disappointments  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  they  could 
only  be  used  as  aids  to  memory,  or  as  secretaries;  for 
they  could  not  even  understand  his  passionate  enthusiasm. 
The  life  of  Christ  was  the  model  the  young  Bishop  set 
before  himself,  and  he  took  joy  in  whatever  pain  or 
fatigue  his  ideal  involved.  His  two  priests  thought  it  un- 
becoming in  a  Bishop  to  work  so  hard  and  to  be  so  care- 
less of  "dignity  and  state,"  by  which  they  meant  ease  and 
good  living.  At  first  they  grumbled  a  good  deal  at  the 
work,  and  with  apparent  reason,  for,  indeed,  the  Bishop 
forgot  himself  in  his  mission,  and  as  the  tour  went  on  his 
body  seemed  to  waste  away  in  the  fire  of  his  zeal. 

After  he  had  come  to  the  extreme  southern  point  of  his 
diocese  he  took  ship  and  began  to  work  his  way  north 
along  the  coast,  in  order  to  visit  all  the  fishing  villages. 

One  afternoon,  after  a  hard  morning's  work,  he  was 
seated  on  deck  resting.  The  little  ship  lay  becalmed  a 
long  way  from  the  shore,  for  the  water  was  shallow  and 
the  breeze  had  died  down  in  the  heat  of  the  day. 

There  had  been  rain-clouds  over  the  land,  but  suddenly 
the  sun  came  out  hotly  and  the  Bishop  caught  sight  of  some 
roofs  glistening  rosy-pink  in  the  sunshine  a  long  way  off. 

"What  place  is  that?"  he  asked  the  Captain. 

"Krasnavodsk,  I  think  it  is  called,"  replied  the  Captain 
after  some  hesitation,  "a  little  nest  between  the  moun- 
tains and  the  sea ;  a  hundred  souls  perhaps  in  all." 

(Men  are  commonly  called  "souls"  in  Russia  as  they  are 
d  "hands"  in  England.) 

"One  hundred  souls,"  repeated  the  Bishop,  "shut  away 
from  the  world;  I  must  visit  Krasnavodsk." 

The  priests  shrugged  their  shoulders  but  said  nothing; 
they  knew  it  was  no  use  objecting  or  complaining.  But 
<!:e  Captain  came  to  ti 


"It's  twenty-live  versts  away,"  he  said,  "and  the  sailors 
are  done  up.  You'll  be  able  to  get  in  easily  enough  but 
coming  out  again  against  the  sea-breeze  will  take  hard 
rowing." 

"To-morrow  is  Sunday,"  rejoined  the  Bishop,  "and  the 
sailors  will  be  able  to  rest  all  day.  Please,  Captain,  tell 
them  to  get  out  the  boat.  I  wouldn't  ask  for  myself,"  he 
added  in  a  low  voice. 

The  Captain  understood ;  the  boat  was  got  out,  and  under 
her  little  lug-sail  reached  the  shore  in  a  couple  of  hours. 

Lermontoff,  the  big  helmsman,  stepped  at  once  ;.nto  the 
shallow  water,  and  carried  the  Bishop  on  his  back  up 
the  beach,  so  that  he  shouldn't  get  wet.  The  two  priests 
got  to  land  as  best  they  could. 

At  the  first  cottage  the  Bishop  asked  an  old  man,  who 
was  cutting  sticks,  where  the  church  was. 

"Church,"  repeated  the  peasant,  "there  isn't  one." 

"Haven't  you  any  pope,  any  priest  here?"  enquired  the 
Bishop. 

"What's  that?" 

"Surely,"  replied  the  Bishop,  "you  have  some  one  here 
who  visits  the  dying  and  prays  with  them*  some  one  who 
attends  to  the  sick — women  and  children?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  cried  the  old  man,  straightening  himself ;  "we 
have  a  holy  man." 

"Holy  man?"  repeated  the  Bishop,  "who  is  he?" 

"Oh,  a  good  man,  a  saint,"  replied  the  old  peasant,  "he 
does  everything  for  anyone  in  need." 

"Is  he  a  Christian?" 

"I  don't  think  so,"  the  old  man  rejoined,  shaking  his 
head.    "I  never  heard  that  name." 

"Do  you  pay  him  for  his  services?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

"No,  no,"  was  the  reply,  "he  would  not  take  anything." 

"How  does  he  live?"  the  Bishop  probed  further. 

"Like  the  rest  of  us,  he  works  in  his  little  garden." 

'Show  me  where  he  lives:  will  you?"  said  the  Bishop 
gently,  and  at  once  the  old  man  put  down  his  axe  and  led 
the  way  among  the  scattered  huts. 

In  a  few  moments  they  came  to  the  cottage  standing  in 
a  square  of  cabbages.  It  was  just  like  the  other  cottages 
in  the  village,  poverty-stricken  and  weather-worn,  wearing 
its  patches  without  thought  of  concealment. 

The  old  man  opened  the  door: 

"Some  visitors  for  you,  Ivanushka,"  he  said,  standing 
aside  to  let  the  Bishop  and  his  priests  pass  in. 

The  Bishop  saw  before  him  a  broad,  thin  man  of  about 
sixty,  dressed  half  like  a  peasant,  half  like  a  fisherman; 
he  wore  the  usual  sheepskin  and  high  fisherman's  boots. 
The  only  noticeable  thing  in  his  appearance  was  the  way 
his   silver  hair  and  beard  contrasted   with   the   dark  tan 


18 


of  his  skin;  his  eyes  were  cl  and  steady. 

"Come  in,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "come  in,"  and  he 
hastily  dusted  a  stool  with  his  sleeve  for  the  Bishop  and 
placed  it  for  him  with  a  low  bow. 

"Thank  you,"  sai£  the  Bishop,  taking  the  seat,   "I   am 
somewhat  tired,  and  the   rest  will  be  grateful.     But  be 
',  too,"  he  added,  for  the  "holy  men"  was  standing 
e  him  bowed  in  an  attitude  of  respectful  attention, 
ut  a  word  Ivan  drew  up  a  stool  and  sat  down. 
"I  was  surprised,"  the  Bishop  began,  "to  find  you  have  no 
church  here,  and  no  priest;  the  peasant  who  showed  us 
iy  did  not  even  know  what  'Christian'  meant." 
The  holy  man  looked  at  him  with  his  patient  eyes,  but 
nothing,  so  the  Bishop  went  on: 
ou're  a  Christian:  are  you  not?" 

have    not  heard    that   name   before,"    said   the   holy 
lan. 
The  Bishop  lifted  his  eyebrows  in  surprise. 

iy  then  do  you  attend  to  the  poor  and  ailing  in  their 
»ed?"  he  argued;  "why  do  you  help  them?" 
The  holy  man  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
;   plied  quietly: 
"I  was  helped  when  I  was  young  and  needed  it." 
"But  what  religion  have  you?"  asked  the  Bishop. 

!igion,"  the  old  man  repeated,  wonderingly,  "what  is 
r  ligion?" 

"We  call  ourselves  Christians,"  the  Bishop  began,  "be- 
c  use  Jesus,  the  founder  of  our  faith,  was  called  Christ, 
was  the  Son  of  God,  and  came  down  from  heaven 
Gospel  of  Good  Tidings;  He  taught  men  that 
were  the  children  of  God,  and  that  God  is  love." 
The  face  of  the  old  man  lighted  up  and  he  leaned  for- 
me about  Him,  please." 
The  Bishop  told  him  the  story  of  Jesus,  and  when  he 
to  the  end  the  old  man  cried : 
at  a  beautiful  story!     I've  never  heard  or  imagined 
i  story." 
"I  intend,"  said  the  Bishop,  "as  soon  as  I  get  home  again, 
tid  you  a  priest,  and  he  will  establish  a  church  here 
you  can  worship  God,  and  he  will  teach  you  the 
e    story    of   the    suffering   and    death    of    the    divine 
ter." 
"That  will  be  good  of  you,"  cried  the  old  man,  warmly, 

shall  be  very  glad  to  welcome  him." 
The  Bishop  was  touched  by  the  evident  sincerity  of  his 

er. 
"Before  I  go,"  he  said,  "and  I  shall  have  to  go  soon, 
(ecause  it  will  take  us  some  hours  to  get  out  to  the  ship 

19 


again,  I  should  like  to  tell  you  the  prayer  that  Jesus 
taught  His  disciples." 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  hear  it,"  the  old  man 
said  quietly. 

"Let  us  kneel  down  then,"  said  the  Bishop,  "as  a  sign 
of  reverence,  and  repeat  it  after  me,  for  we  are  all 
brethren  together  inithe  love  of  the  Master";  and  saying 
this  he  knelt  down,  and  the  old  man  immediately  knelt 
down  beside  him  and  clasped  his  hands  as  the  Bishop 
clasped  his  and  repeated  the  sentences  as  they  dropped 
from  the  Bishop's  lips-. 

"Our  Fattier,  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name." 

When  the  old  man  had  repeated  the  words,  the  Bishop 
went  on: 

"Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it 
is  in  heaven." 

The  fervour  with  which  the  old  man  recited  the  words 
"Thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven"  was  really 
touching. 

The  Bishop  continued: 

"Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our 
debts,1  as  we  forgive  our  debtors." 

"Give    .    .    .    give ,"  repeated  the  old  man,  having 

apparently  forgotten  the  words. 

"Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  repeated  the  Bishop, 
"and  forgive  us  our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors." 

"Give  and  forgive,"  said  the  old  man  at  length.  .  .  . 
"Give  and  forgive,"  he  repeated,  and  the  Bishop  fearing 
that  his  memory  was  weak  took  up  the  prayer  again : 

"And  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from 
evil." 

Again  the  old  man  repeated  the  words  with  an  astonish- 
ing fervour,  "And  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver 
us  from  evil." 

And  the  Bishop  concluded : 

"For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
for  ever.    Amen." 

The  old  man's  voice  had  an  accent  of  loving  and  pas- 
sionate sincerity  as  he  said,  'Tor  thine  is  the  kingdom, 
and  the  power,  and  the  beauty,  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen." 

The  Bishop  rose  to  his  feet  and  his  host  followed  his 
example,  and  when  he  held  out  his  hand  the  old  man 
clasped  it  in  both  his,  saying: 

"How  can  I  ever  thank  you  for  telling  me  that  beautiful 
story  of  Christ;  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough  for 
teaching  me  His  prayer?" 

As  one  in  an  ecstasy  he  repeated  the  words:  "Thy 
kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  ir  is  in 
heaven.    .    .    ." 

Touched  by  his  reverent,  heartfelt  sincerity,  the  Bishop 

1  Matthew* s  account 
20 


treated  him  with  great  kindness;  he  put  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said: 

"As  soon  as  I  get  back  I  will  send  you  a  priest,  who 
will  t  more,  much  more  than   I  have  had  time 

to  teach  you  ;  he  will  indeed  tell  you  all  you  want  to  know 
of  our  religion — the  love  by  which  we  live,  the  hope  in 
which  we  it ."  Before  he  could  stop  him  the  old  man 
had  bent  his  head  and  kissed  the  Bishop's  hand ;  and  tears 
stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  did  him  reverence. 

He  ace  unpanied  the  Bishop  to  the  water's  edge,  and, 
seeing  the  Bishop  hesitate  on  the  brink  waiting  for  the 
steersman  to  carry  him  to  the  boat,  the  "holy  man"  stooped 
and  took  the  Bishop  in  his  arms  and  strode  with  him 
through  the  water  and  put  him  gently  on  the  cushioned 
seat  in  the  sternsheets  as  if  he  had  been  a  little  child, 
much  to  the  surprise  of  the  Bishop  and  of  Lermontoff, 
who  said  as  if  to  himself: 

"That  fellow's  as  strong  as  a  young  man." 


For  a  long  time  after  the  boat  had  left  the  shore  the 
old  man  stood  on  the  beach  waving  his  hands  to  the 
Bishop  and  his  companions;  but  when  they  were  well  out 
to  sea,  on  the  second  tack,  he  turned  and  went  up  to  his 
cottage  and  disappeared  from  their  sight. 

A  little  later  the  Bishop,  turning  to  his  priests,  said: 

"What  an  interesting  experience!  What  a  wonderful 
old  man!  Didn't  you  notice  how  fervently  he  said  the 
Lord's  Praye 

"Yes,"  replied  the  younger  priest  indifferently,  "he  was 
trying  to  show  off,  I  thought." 

"No,  no,"  cried  the  Bishop.  "His  sincerity  was  manifest 
and  his  goodness,  too.  Did  you  notice  that  he  said  'give 
and  forgive'  instead  of  just  repeating  the  words?  And  if 
you  think  of  it,  'give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread  and  for- 
give us  our  debts  as  we  forgive  our  debtors'  seems  a  little 
like  a  bargain.  I'm  not  sure  that  the  simple  word  'give 
and  forgive'  is  not  better,  more  in  the  spirit  of  Jesus?" 

The  younger  priest  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  the 
question  had  no  interest  for  him. 

"Perhaps  that's  what  the  old  man  meant?"  questioned 
the  Bishop  after  a  pause. 

But  as  neither  of  the  priests  answered  him,  he  went  on, 
as  if  thinking  aloud: 

"At  the  end  again  he  used  the  word  *beauty'  for  'glory.' 
I  wonder  was  that  unconscious?  In  any  case  an  extra- 
ordinary man  and  good,  I  am  sure,  out  of  sheer  kindness 
and  sweetness  of  nature,  as  many  men  are  good  in  Russia. 

21 


No  wonder  our  moujiks  call  it  'Holy  Russia';  no  wonder 
when  you  can  find  men  like  that." 

"They  are  as  ignorant  as  pigs,"  cried  the  other  priest, 
"not  a  soul  in  the  village, can  either  read  or  write:  they 
are  heathens,  barbarians.  ''"They've  never  even  heard  of 
Christ  and  don't  know  what  religion  means." 

The  Bishop  looked  at  him  and  said  nothing;  seemingly 
he  preferred  his  own  thoughts. 


It  was  black  night  when  they  came  to  the  ship,  and  at 
once  they  all  went  to  their  cabins  to  sleep;  for  the  day 
had  been  very  tiring. 

The  Bishop  had  been  asleep  perhaps  a  couple  of  hours 
when  he  was  awakened  by  the  younger  priest  shaking  him 
and  saying: 

"Come  on  deck  quickly,  quickly,  Excellency,  something 
extraordinary's  happening,  a  light  on  the  sea  and  no  one 
can  make  out  what  it  is  1" 

"A  light,"  exclaimed  the  Bishop,  getting  out  of  bed 
and  beginning  to  draw  on  his  clothes. 

"Yes,  a  light  on  the  water,"  repeated  the  priest;  "but 
come  quickly,  please;  the  Captain  sent  me  for  you." 

When  the  Bishop  reached  the  deck,  the  Captain  was 
standing  with  his  night-glass  to  his  eyes,  looking  over  the 
waste  of  water  to  leeward,  where,  indeed,  a  light  could 
be  seen  flickering  close  to  the  surface  of  the  sea;  it  appeared 
to  be  a  hundred  yards  ^r  so  away. 

"What  is  it?"*  cried  the  Bishop,  astonished  by  the  fact 
that  all  the  sailors  had  crowded  round  and  were  staring 
at  the  light. 

"What  is  it?"  repeated  the  Captain  gruffly,  for  he  was 
greatly  moved;  "it's  a  man  with  a  grey  beard;  he  has  a 
lantern  in  his  right  hand,  and  he's  walking  on  the  water." 

"But  no  one  can  walk  on  the  water,"  said  the  Bishop 
gently.  "It  would  be  a  miracle,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of 
remonstrance. 

"Miracle  or  not,"  retorted  the  Captain,  taking  the  glass 
from  his  eyes,  "that's  what  I  see,,  and  the  man'll  be  here 
soon,  for  he's  coming  towards  us.  Look,  you,"  and  he 
handed  the  glass  to  one  of  the  sailors  as  he  spoke. 

The  light  still  went  on  swaying  about  as  if  indeed  it  were 
being  carried  in  the  hand  of  a  man.  The  sailor  had 
hardly  put  the  night-glass  to  his  eyes,  when  he  cried  out: 

"That's  what  it  is ! — a  man  walking  on  the  water  .  .  . 
it's  the  'holy  man'  who  carried  your  Excellency  on  board 
the  boat  this  afternoon." 

"God  help  us !"  cried  the   priests,   crossing  themselves. 

"He'll  be  here  in  a  moment  or  two,"  added  the  sailor, 
"he's  coming  quickly,"  and,  indeed,  almost  at  once  the  old 

22 


man  came  to  them  from  the  water  and  stepped  over  the 
low  bulwark  on  to  the  deck. 

At  this  the  priests  went  down  on  their  knees,  thinking  it 
was  some  miracle,  and  the  sailors,  including  the  Captain, 
heir  example,  leaving  th<  Kishop  standing  awe- 
stricken  and  uncertain  in  their  midst. 

The  "holy  man"  came  forward,  and.  stretching  out  his 
hands,  said : 

"I'm   afraid    I  cellency:    but    soon 

after  you  left  me,  1  found  I  had  forgotten  part  of  that 
beautiful  prayer,  and  I  could  not  bear  you  to  go  away 
and  think  me  careless  of  all  you  had  taught  me,  and  so  I 
came  I  i  to  help  my  memory  just  once  more.     .     .     . 

•  '"member  the  first  part  of  the  prayer  and  the  last 
words  as  if  I  had  been  hearing  it  all  my  life  and  knew 
it  in  my  soul,  but  the  middle  has  escaped  me.     .     .     . 

"I  remember  'Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven,  Hal- 
lowed be  thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be 
done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,'  and  then  all  I  can  re- 
member is,  'Give  and  id  the  end,  'And  lead  us 
nut  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil.  For  thine 
is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power  and  the  beauty  for  ever 
and  ever.     Amen." 

"But  I've   forgotten   some  die:   won't 

you  tell  me  the  middle  again?" 

"How  did  you  come  to  us?"  asked  the  Bishop  in  awed 
wonderment.     "How  did  you  walk  on  the   wait 

"Oh,  that's  easy,"  replied  the  old  man,  "anyone  can 
do  that;  whatever  you  love  and  trust  in  this  world  loves 
you  in  return.  We  love  the  water  that  makes  everything 
pure  and  sweet  for  us,  and  is  never  tired  of  cleansing,  and 
the  water  loves  us  in  return ;  anyone  can  walk  on  it ;  but 
won't  you  teach  me  that  beautiful  prayer,  the  prayer 
Jesus  taught  His  disciples?" 

The  Bishop  shoo1.  1,  and  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 

to  himself,  said : 

"I  don't  think  I  can  teach  you  anything  about  Jesus  the 
t.    You  know  a  great  deal  already.     T  only  wish " 


THE  KING  OF  THE  JEWS 

THE  PERSONS 
Hushim.    A  woman  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin;  wife  of 
Simon  and  mother  of  his  two  sons,  Alexander  and 
Rufus. 
Simon.    Of  Cyrene,  who  owns  a  field  in  the  country  out- 
side Jerusalem,  on  the  way  to  Bethel. 
The  Scene:  Jerusalem 
Time:     The  First  Hour  on  the  day  of  Preparation. 

Hushim.  Now  you  know  what  to  do,  don't  you?  You 
must  go  to  the  Temple  by  the  second  hour  and  wait  for 
Joad.  When  he  comes  he'll  take  you  to  the  High  Priest. 
You'll  know  Joad,  he'll  be  dressed  as  a  priest.  Tell  Joad 
he's  the  handsomest  man  you've  ever  seen;  he's  small, 
you  know,  and  likes  to  think  he's  captivitating.  Compli- 
ment the  High  Priest  on  his  sense  of  justice;  say  it  is  the 
finest  in  the  world;  say  anything.  .  .  .  Don't  be  afraid 
of  overdoing  it;  men  love  flattery. 

Simon  [nods  his  head].    I'll  do  my  best. 

Hushim.  If  I've  not  heard  from  you  by  the  fourth 
hour  I'll  send  Alexander  to  you  to  know  the  result,  for  I 
shall  be  very  anxious.  And  the  boy'll  find  out,  he's  so 
sharp.  Don't  spare  compliments.  You  must  be  doorkeeper 
in  the  Temple,  and  flattery  is  like  honey,  the  less  you  de- 
serve it,  the  more  you  like  it. 

Simon  [going].    I'll  try  to  do  what  you  say,  Hushim. 
The  Eleventh  Hour  on  the  day  of  Preparation 

Hushim.  Well?  Have  you  got  the  post?  You  have 
been  a  time.  Are  you  the  doorkeeper  of  the  Temple; 
have  we  the  house  in  the  Inner  Court? 

Simon  [passing  his  hand  over  his  forehead].  I  don't 
know. 

Hushim.  Don't  know;  you  must  know.  Was  Joad 
there?    He  promised  to  speak  for  you.    Did  you  see  him? 

Simon.    I  didn't  see  him.    [Sits  down  wearily.] 

Hushim.  Didn't  see  him!  Wasn't  he  there?  My 
uncle's  brother,  too,  and  he  promised  me :  the  liar.  What 
did  you  do? 

Simon.    I  did  nothing.    I'm  tired,  Hushim. 

Hushim.  Tired!  What's  happened?  Why  don't  you 
speak?   What's  the  matter  with  you?    Are  you  dumb  or  ill? 

Simon.    I'm  not  ill,  I'm  only  tired. 

Hushim.v  Tired,  jou  great  hulk.  Where  have  you  been  ? 
What  have  you  been  doing?  What's  the  matter  with  you? 
Can't  you  speak? 

Simon.    If  you  knew 

Hushim.  If  I  knew  what?  Oh,  you  make  me  mad. 
What  is  it?  [She  takes  him  by  the  shoulder  and  shakes 
him.]  What's  happened?  Oh,  you  brute!  Can't  you 
speak? 

24 


Simon.    You've  no  cause  for  anger,  wife. 

Hushim.  No  cause!  Have  you  got  the  place?  What 
did  the  High  Priest  say?    You  must  know  that 

Simon.    I  don't  know. 

Hushim.  You  don't  know.  You  must  be  mad.  This 
comes  of  marrying  a  foreigner,  a  fool,  a  great  brute.  They 
all  said  I'd  repent  it.    Oh  I  Oh  1  Oh ! 

Simon.    Don't  cry,  Hushim.    I'll  tell  you  everything. 

Hushim  [drying  her  eyes].  Tell  me,  did  they  make 
you  doorkeeper?  That's  what  I  want  to  know.  Tell  me 
that.  You  promised  you'd  be  in  the  Temple  at  the  second 
hour  and  here  it  is  the  eleventh.  Where  have  you  been  all 
day?    Where? 

Simon.    I'm  sorry,  wife;  I  forgot. 

Hushim.  Forgot,  sorry!  What  do  you  mean?  Joad 
promised  me  to  get  you  the  place  if  the  High  Priest  liked 
you.    Did  you  get  it  ?    What  did  they  say  ?    Talk,  man. 

Simon.  I'm  so  so.ry  I  forgot  all  about  it.  I  have  not 
been  to  the  Temple. 

Hushim.  You've  not  been  to  the  Temple.  And  why 
not?  Where  were  you?  Don't  say  that  Eli  got  the  post. 
Don't  say  it  or  I'll  strike  you. 

Simon.  I'm  very  sorry.  I  forgot.  I  don't  know  who 
got  it.    I  wasn't  there. 

Hushim  [sitting  down].  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  He  wasn't 
there !  Oh !  Oh !  Oh !  Where  have  you  been  all  these 
hours?  What  have  you  been  doing?  Where  did  you  go? 
Where  did  you  eat? 

Simon.  I've  not  eaten.    I've 

Hushim.  Not  eaten!  Why  not?  What  happened? 
Oh,  why  won't  you  speak!    Talk,  tell  me! 

Simon.     I'll  tell  you  everything;  but  I'm  very  tired. 

Hushim.  Tell  me  first,  who  got  the  post?  You  must 
have  heard. 

Simon.     I  don't  know.     I've  not  heard. 

Hushim.  At  the  fourth  hour  I  sent  Alexander  to  the 
Temple  to  find  out  whether  you  were  chosen  or  not ;  when 
it  got  so  dark  I  sent  Rufus  to  my  sister-in-law,  Hoshed. 
I  could  not  bear  the  suspense.  They've  both  come  back 
without  news.    You  must  know  who  got  the  post. 

Simon.    No,  I  don't  know.    I  didn't  ask,  but 

Hushim.    You  didn't  ask? 

Simon.    I'm  thirsty. 

Hushim  [giving  him  wine].  There!  Now  tell  me 
everything.    You  went  out  to  the  field? 

Simon  [nods  while  drinking  the  wine].  I  was  at  the 
field  till  nearly  the  second  hour  working,  then  I  came  into 
the  city.  When  I  reached  the  street  which  leads  from 
the  Temple  to  Golgotha.  I  could  not  get  across  it,  there 
was  such  a  crowd.  They  had  all  come  to  see  some  prison- 
ers who  were  going  to  be  crucified. 

25 


Hushim.    But  didn't  you  push  through?, 

Simon.  I  got  through  to  the  first  file,  but  there  soldiers 
kept  the  passage.  I  had  to  wait.  No  one  was  allowed  to 
cross.  .  .  .  They  told  me  there  were  three  criminals. 
The  people  were  talking  about  them.  Two  were  thieves 
and  one  a  rebel  from  the  north,  who  had  tried  to  make 
himself  king.  It  was  to  see  him  the  people  had  run  to- 
gether.   Some  said  he  was  a  prophet  of  God.     .     .     . 

After  a  little  while  the  prisoners  came  by.  The  two 
thieves  first,  and  then  slowly  the  man,  whom  they  called 
a  prophet.  He  looked  very  ill.  .  .  .  [After  a  long 
pause.]  They  had  platted  a  crown  of  thorns  and  pushed 
it  down  on  his  head,  and  the  thorns  had  torn  the  flesh 
and  the  blood  ran  down  his  face.  When  he  came  opposite 
to  me  he  fell  and  lay  like  a  dead  man;  the  Cross  was 
heavy.  .  .  .  The  Centurion  ordered  some  of  the  Roman 
soldiers  to  lift  the  Cross  from  him  and  he  got  up.  He 
seemed  very  weak  and  faint : :  he  could  hardly  stand.     .     . 

.  The  Centurion  carne  across  to  me  and  pulled  me  out, 
and  pointed  to  the  Cross  and  told  me  to  shoulder  it  and 
get  on.     .     .     . 

Hushim.    But  why  you? 

Simon.     I  suppose  because  I  looked  big  and  strong. 

Hushim.  Didn't  you  tell  him  you  had  to  be  at  the 
Temple  ? 

Simon.  Of  course  I  told  him,  but  he  thrust  me  forward 
and  warned  me  if  I  didn't  do  as  I  was  told,  I'd  have  to 
go  to  the  Temple  without  feet. 

Hushim.  Oh,  what  bad  luck!  No  one  ever  had  such 
bad  luck  as  you.    No  one.    Why  didn't  you  run  away? 

Simon.    I  didn't  think 

Hushim.    Well,  you  carried  the  Cross?     And  then 

Sfmon.  I  went  to  lift  the  Cross;  it  seemed  as  if  I  were 
helping  to  punish  the  man.  While  I  stood  hesitating,  he 
looked  at  me,  Hushim.  I  never  saw  such  eyes  or  such  a 
look.  Somehow  or  other  I  knew  he  wished  me  to  do  it. 
I  lifted  the  Cross  up  and  got  my  shoulder  under  it  and 
walked  on.  I  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  weight  of  it,  I 
was  thinking  of  his  look,  and  so  went  through  the  crowd 
past  Golgotha  to  the  Hill  of  Calvary.  On  the  top  I  put 
down  the  Cross. 

Hushim.  When  was  that?  It  must  have  been  about 
the  third  hour.  Why  didn't  you  go  to  the  Temple  then? 
You  see,  it  was  all  your  fault.  I  knew  it  was!  But  go  on, 
go  on. 

Simon.  I  forgot  all  about  the  Temple,  I  could  think 
of  nothing  but  the  man.  He  stood  there  so  quiet  while 
the  priests  and  people  jeered  at  him.  .  .  .  When  the 
others  were  hung  up,  they  shrieked  and  screamed  and 
cursed.    It  was  dreadful.    .    .     . 


26 


When  they  were  getting  ready  to  nail  him  to  the  Cross 

nt  over  to  him  and  said,  "O  Master,"  and  he  turned 

to  me,  "forgive  me,  Master,  for  doing  what  your  enemies 

d."     And    he    looked    at    me    again,    and    my    heart 

turned  to  water,  and  the  tears  streamed  from  my  eyes, 

I  don't  know  why.    .     .     . 

He  put  his  hands  on  my  shoulders  and  said,  "Friend, 
friend,  there  is  nothing  to  forgive.  .  ."  [Lays  his  head 
on  his  arms  and  sobs — ] 

Hushim.  Don't  cry,  Simon,  don't  cry.  He  must  have 
been  a  prophet  1 

Simon.  If  you  had  seen  him.  If  you  had  seen  his 
eyes.     .     .    . 

Hushim  [beginning  to  cry].  I  know,  I  know.  What 
else  did  he  say? 

Simon.  He  thanked  me,  and  though  I  was  a  foreigner 
and  a  stranger  to  him,  and  quite  rough  and  common,  he 
took  me   in  his  arms   and  kissed   n  .1   was   all 

broken  before  him.    .     .    . 

He  was  wonderful.  When  they  nailed  him  to  the  Cross 
he  did  not  even  groan — not  a  sound.  And  when  they  lifted 
the  Cross  up — the  worst  torture  of  all — he  just  grew 
white,  white.  .  .  .  All  the  priests  about  and  the  people 
mocked  him  and  asked  if  he  could  save  others  why  couldn't 
he  save  himself?  But  he  answered  not  a  word.  .  .  . 
I  could  have  killed  them,  the  brutes  1  He  prayed  to  God 
to  forgive  them,  and  he  comforted  one  of  the  thieves  who 
was  sobbing  in  pain.    .     .    . 

Oh,  he  was  wonderful.  Even  in  his  anguish  he  could 
think  of  others,  and  yet  he  was  the  weakest  of  all. 

And  then  the  storm  burst,  and  I  stood  there  for  hours 
and  hours  in  the  darkness.  I  could  not  leave  him,  I 
waited.  .  .  .  Later  some  of  his  own  people  came  about 
the  Cross,  weeping,  his  mother  and  his  followers,  and  took 
him  down,  and  they  called  him  Master  and  Lord,  as  I  had 
called  him.  They  all  loved  him.  No  one  could  help  lov- 
ing him,  no  one.     .     .     . 

Above  his  head  on  the  Cross,  they  had  written,  "King 
of  the  Jews."  You  Jews  have  no  king,  I  know;  they  did 
it  to  mock  him.  But  he  was  a  king,  king  of  the  hearts  of 
men. 

Hushim.  And  with  all  that  we've  lost  the  place  1  What 
was  his  name? 

Simon.    Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

if.    What  was  it  He  said 
member  it  to  tell  Hoshed. 

Simon.     He  called  me  "Blessed,  for  that  I  a  stranger, 
lid  not  even   know   Him.   was   the  only   n 
world  who  had  ever  helped  to  bear  His  burden." 

27 


JESUS 

By  G.  Bernard  Shaw 

Dear  Frank  Harris  : 

Your  review  of  my  Androcles  preface  is  very  interest- 
ing reading,  as  all  your  stuff  is;  but  on  the  subject  of  the 
mildness  of  Jesus  you  must  fight  it  out,  not  with  me,  but 
with  St.  Matthew.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  even  if 
we  could  accept  it  as  a  genuine  open-air  speech  and  not  a 
very  obvious  collection  of  "sayings,"  would  not  afford  the 
slightest  presumption  that  Jesus  himself  was  the  sort  of 
person  he  exhorted  his  hearers  to  be. 

'  "~~There  is  an  old  story,  told  sometimes  about  Mazarin, 

sometimes  about   Richelieu,  of   a  Minister's  antechamber 

,  hung  with  pictures;  those   on  one  side  being  all  idyllic 

J  landscapes  and   scenes   of   domestic  sentiment;   those  on 

/  the  other  scenes  of  battle  and  blood  and  torture.  The  Min- 
ister, when  he  wanted  to  size  up  a  new  man,  watched  how 
he  took  the  pictures.  If  he  clung  to  the  battle  pictures,  the 
Minister  knew  that  he  was  a  timid  man  of  peace,  for 
whom  action  and  daring  were  full  of  romantic  fascination. 
If  he  wallowed  in  cottage  sentiment  and  the  Maiden's 
Prayer,  he  was  immediately  marked  down  for  military 
preferment  and  dangerous  jobs. 

Have  you  ever  known  a  sportsman  who  was  ferocious? 
Have  you  ever  known  a  humanitarian  who  was  not 
ferocious?  You  are  yourself  so  in  love  with  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  with  all  aspects  of  gentleness  and  pity 
that  people  who  have  never  met  you  possibly  imagine  you 
as  a  Christ-like,  dove-eyed  figure.  But  has  anybody  who 
has   met  you   personally   ever   described  you   as    "Gentle 

u  Francis,  meek  and  mild  !"_jThe  apparent  contradiction  of 
your  pity  for  Sonia  and  Oscar  Wilde  by  your  buccaneering 
manners  and  occasionally  frightful  language  is  a  familiar 
natural  phenomenon. 

Suppose  I  had  declared  that  the  gospel  of  Matthew  was 
incredibly  inconsistent  because  the  haughty  and  vitupera- 
tive Jesus,  whom  he  describes,  could  not  possibly  be  the 
preacher  of  patience,  kindness  and  forgiveness.  Surely 
you  would  have  found  such  a  criticism  hasty  and  shallow, 
and  reminded  me  that  the  Shelley  who  wrote  Prometheus 
Unbound,  and  Laon  and  Cynthia  was  the  same  Shelley 
who  poured  the  fiercest  invective  on  Castlereagh,  on  Eldon 
and  on  his  own  father,  not  to  mention  the  entire  tribe  of 
old  men.  Would  you  say  that  Herbert  Spencer  must 
have  been  a  lazy  man  because  he  warned  people  so  earnestly 

.    against  the  gospel  of  hard  work?     On  the  contrary,  you 

28 


ry  plainly  that  he  gave  the  warning  just  because 
he  had  been  himself  unable  to  keep  his  industry  within 
prudent    bounds,    and    overstrained    himself    permanently 

-king  at  his  First  Principles. 
Almost  every  one  who  is  interested  in  Jesus  has  a  pet 
conception  of  him,  and  protests  against  my  preface  for 
not  reproducing  it.  But  my  preface  has  nothing  to  do 
with  any  modern  conception  of  him.  I  go  to  the  Bible 
and  I  find  there  four  biographies  of  Jesus.  Three  of  them 
are  called  synoptic  because  they  agree  roughly  as  to  the 
course  of  events  in  his  life;  and  two  of  them  are  at  least 
not  contradictory  as  to  his  character.  The  fourth  de- 
scribes a  different  career  and  a  different  man — so  different 
that  if  he  were  not  named  and  had  not  been  crucified 
by  Pontius  Pilate  at  the  demand  of  the  Jews,  he  might 
have  been  classed  as  an  apostle  or  even  as  the  leader  of 
a  great  heresy.    The  world  has  mixed  these  three  Jesuses 

ne  Jesus.    The  great  painters  have  painted  the  three 
in   the   stable   with   the   shepherds ;    an   impossible 

nation  which  would  have  scandalized  Matthew  and 
irritated  Luke.  Matthew  was  a  man  of  books,  a  chronic- 
ler. Luke  was  a  sentimental  romancer.  John  was  a.  man 
of  the  world  and  a  politician  with  a  turn  for  magic  and 
metaphysics,  not  unlike  Paracelsus.  Matthew  took  it  for 
granted  that  Jesus  belonged  to  the  haughty  classes;  had 
socially  correct  views  as  to  the  Gentiles ;  and  was  offensive 
as  a  matter  of  course  to  those  who  disagreed  with  him. 
Luke  made  an  operatic  tenor  of  him  and  gave  him  charm- 
ing manners.  Neither  Matthew  nor  Luke  write  as  eye 
witnesses  or  like  men  who  had  ever  taken  part  in  political 
life:  they  do  not  know  how  politicians  and  priests  really 
falk  and  behave,  viva  voce.  John,  on  the  contrary,  writes 
both  as  an  eye  witness  and  as  a  man  who  knew  what 
people  are  like  on  committees  and  at  political  and  religious 
demonstrations  according  to  their  classes.  The  difference 
is  like  that  between  Anthony  Trollope  and  a  provincial 
novelist  who  represents  the  king  as  always  wearing  the 
crown  and  being  addressed  by  the  prime  minister  in 
private  as  "Your  Majesty."  In  the  end  you  feel  pretty 
clear  as  to  the  sort  of  man  Matthew  was,  and  Luke  was 
and  John  was.  You  even  have  a  distinct  notion  of  Mark. 
But  Jesus  eludes  you,  because  though  nothing  could  be 
more  definite  than  the  type  of  man  chronicled  by  Matthew, 
you  perceive  that  Matthew  had  no  eye  for  character,  and 

3t  understand  originality  or  even  unconventionality. 

a    portrait,    though    good    fiction,    is    too    obviously 

( ian  to  be  credible  as  a  bit  of  realism.    And  John  is 

T  up  a  figure  of  the  higher  Freemasonry  and  never 

takrs  you  behind  the  scenes  of  his  temple-theater. 

Out  of  all  these  I  have  picked  some  scraps  of  doctrine 

29 


common  to  the  four,  and  sor^e  traits  of  Bohemian  life  in 
which  the  four  records  confirm  what  would  be  deduced 
from  the  circumstances.  And  I  have  given  the  only  ex- 
planation as  yet  discovered  of  the  otherwise  unaccountable 
going  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter.  Beyond  this  I  could 
not  go  without  dropping  into  fiction.  You  can  project 
your  ideal  Christ  on  the  pages  of  your  next'  book  just  as 
Bu.rne-Jones  has  projected  his  Christ  on  the  window  of 
Speldhurst  Church.  This  Christ  is  not  a  bit  like  Holman 
Hunt's  "Light  of  the  World."  And  Holman  Hunt's  Christ 
is  not  a  son  of  Blake's  God  in  Job.  Your  Christ  will 
not  be  like  Farrar's  or  Marie  Corelli's.  The  ideal  Christs 
are  of  all  sorts,  from  tailor's  dummies  to  reincarnations 
and  revelations :  but  when  you  come  to  the  documents  you 
come  back  to  my  preface. 

The  so-called  higher  criticism  is  a  bore  because  it  can- 
not see  the  man  behind  the  gospel.  It  does  not  even  tell 
you  that  Matthew  and  Mark  were  chiffoniers:  it  insists 
that  there  were  no  such  persons  and  that  the  wind  blew  the 
chiffons  into  a  heap  and  thus  produced  a  gospel.  That  is 
only  the  useless  part  of  the  truth :  I  have  sifted  the  heap 
for  the  cinders,  not  for  the  dust. 

Yours  ever, 

G.  Bernard  Shaw. 


r  Bernard  Shaw : 

I  might  answer  your  letter  by   ■  most 

brilliant   of    living    controven  vhile    1    detest   con- 

troversy.   I   hate  fighting  and   see   no  good    in 
flict  of   wits.    I   am   always  seeking   for  X'  m   of 

truth   in   the  other  man's   ai  and   trying   to   har- 

monize his  view  with  my  d> 
which  shall  include  both. 

But  when  I  read  this  letter  of  jours  with   thi 
in  mind  I  was  a  little  put  out  because 
mtradict  yourself. 

You  say  "Jesus  eludes  you" ;  that  everyone  interested  in 
Jesus  has  a  pet  conception  of  him  and  that  his 
and  Sayings  do  not  "afford  the  slightest  presumption  that 
Jesus    himself    was   the   sort   of   person    he    exhorted    his 
hearers  to  be."    Yet  you  tell  us  you  know  Matthew,  Mark, 
Luke  and  John  from  what  they  say  and  you  proceed  to 
describe  them.     Their  personalities  and  short-comings  are 
all  clear  to  you  but  Jesus  dudes  you  and  you  imply  that 
he  cannot  be  known.    Surely  this  contradiction  ruin^ 
main   contention.     Let  me   see   if  I  can  throw  any 
on  your  perplexity. 

You  kn(  w.    Mark,   Luke    and   John   and   their 

peculiarities  of  on;  they  have  all  written 

about  Jesus,  an  them,  Matthew,  Mark  and  I 

have  said  much  th(    same  things  about  him. 

Besides  this,  one  has  an  earlier  account — the  account 
of   Paul,   v  is   but  knew  his  mother, 

his  brother  and  his  teachi 

Now  Pa  nan  of  eminent  capacity,  a  realiy  good 

brain  and  great  heart  given  to  passionate  enthusiasms,  a 
man  capable,  that  is,  of  understanding  even   the   highest. 

Paul  was  a  historic  character  and  we  know  Paul  inti- 
mately; anfI  Paul  tell*  us  of  Jestis;  nevertheless  you  say, 
"Jesus  eludes  you. '  P  mi's  chapter  in  Corinthians  on 
"faith,  hope  and  lo  en  accepted  b\    fifty  genera- 

tions as  giving  the  rit  of  the  tear  lesus; 

it  is  in  intimat  according 

to  his  other  biogr  s  his  final  word: 

"A  new  comrnan 
one  another." 

All  his  teacl  '  mplificaiion  or  exposition 

of  this  text 

"Let  him  tha  •   »   cast  the 

stone." 

"Much  shall  b  -  for  she  loved  m 

Now,  Shaw, 

31 


know  that  Jesus  at  his  best  does  not  elude  you;  yet,  desir- 
ing above  all  things  controversial  victory,  you  say  in  effect 
that  this  gentle  loving  Jesus  may  have  been  a  hot-head 
revolutionary,  full  of  desperate  resolves,  a  pirate  or  bully 
delighting  in  cruelties. 

Of  course,  every  man  embraces  in  himself  all  sorts  of 
contradictions;  the  prize  fighter  has  gentle  impulses,  the 
saint  hot  indignations ;  but  we  talk  of  them  nevertheless, 
as  combative  or  gentle  because  of  their  dominant  char- 
acteristics. 

A  man  reveals  himself  in  his  work  infallibly.  All  the 
new  magical  words  of  Jesus  are  words  of  love  and  pity. 
Paul  was  a  born  fighter;  his  worth  to  us  comes  from  the 
fact  that  he  has  imbibed  a  full  measure  of  the  sweet 
lovingkindness  of  Jesus;  the  conclusion  seems  to  me 
inevitable:  The  real  Jesus  is  the  traditional  Jesus,  gentle, 
mild,  with  more  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  in  him 
than  in  any  other  man  and  more  of  sweet-thoughted 
wisdom. 

Frank  Harris  thinks  the  story  by  Jesus  of  the  woman 
taken  in  adultery  given  by  St.  John  in  his  eighth  chapter 
is  the  best  story  ever  written  in  the  world. 

AND  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  brought  unto  him  a  wo- 
man taken  in  adultery;  and  when  they  had  set  her 
in  the  midst  they  said  unto  him,  Master,  this  woman 
was  taken  in  adultery,  in  the  very  act.  Now  Moses  in  the 
law  commanded  us,  that  such  should  be  stoned;  but  what 
sayest  thou  ?  This  they  said,  tempting  him,  that  they  might 
have  to  accuse  him.  But  Jesus  stooped  down,  and  with 
His  finger  wrote  on  the  ground,  as  though  he  heard  them 
not.  So  when  they  continued  asking  him,  he  lifted  up 
himself,  and  said  unto  them,  He  that  is  without  sin  among 
you,  let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her.  And  again  he 
stooped  down,  and  wrote  on  the  ground.  And  they  which 
heard  it,  being  convicted  by  their  own  conscience,  went 
out  one  by  one,  beginning  at  the  eldest,  even  unto  the 
last;  and  Jesus  was  left  alone,  and  the  woman  standing 
in  the  midst.  When  Jesus  had  lifted  up  himself,  and  saw 
none  but  the  woman,  he  said  unto  her,  Woman,  where  are 
thine  accusers?  Hath  no  man  condemned  thee?  She 
said,  no  man,  Lord.  And  Jesus  said  unto  her,  Neither  do 
I  condemn  thee;  go,  and  sin  no  more. 


32 


ALWAYS  BRIMFUL 

OF  GOOD  THINGS 

ARTICLES  BY  MEN, 

WELL-KNOWN  FOR  THEIR 

ABILITY  ON  A  GREAT 

VARIETY  OF 
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Pearson's 

The  Magazine  with  a  Soul 


On  Sale  Wherever  Good 
3SCagazine$  ore  Sold 


